But on the outside, I’d included chunky drop earrings that nearly brushed my shoulders and a thick rhinestone bracelet over the gathers formed by the material at one of my wrists. On the other hand, I had a ring at my middle finger, on which delicate, shimmering chains were attached that dangled up the back of my hand to another bracelet linked around my wrist.
And on my feet were silver sandals that had a platform, a four-and-a-half-inch heel that was thin as a pencil, a slim wraparound strap at my ankle, and two slender straps over my toes.
I needed a manicure and a pedicure.
Other than that, top to toe, I was all I could be for a first date.
The bummer was that I was also a little tired. The day, the conversation with Benny, the trip to Lincoln’s and back, and my efforts in the bathroom took it out of me.
But I was not going to miss that night.
I’d made Benny a promise. Stick with him. Minute by minute.
I was going to keep it.
I didn’t know if it was right.
I did know that day we threw a lot of garbage out there and none of it fazed Ben, not in the slightest.
I also knew that pretty much everybody—from Cindy the nurse, who had no real idea of the history; to Cal, who totally did; to Theresa and Vinnie, who were intimately involved; to old lady Zambino, a not-so-casual observer—didn’t think it was wrong.
It was only me who did.
So I was going to stick with Benny, take this minute by minute and ride it out, God help me.
Which meant, even though I was tired and a bit achy, I was tricked out to extremes in order to go to arguably the most romantic restaurant in Chicago with Benny Bianchi.
I turned to the door, opened it, switched off the light, walked out, and stopped dead.
This was because Ben had his neck bent forward, his side to me, and he was shrugging on the jacket of a black suit. Shrugging it on over a shirt so deep blue it was midnight, that had subtle dark gray, deep burgundy, and navy stripes. His hair was partially tamed, and once he got the jacket settled, the ends brushed the collar.
My stomach dipped and my mouth went dry.
His eyes came to me and he went completely still.
Then those eyes got dark in a way that made my legs start trembling and my clit pulse.
I braced for him to rush me.
He didn’t. We just stood there staring at each other. Benny’s look was carnal. I had a feeling mine was the same.
After this lasted awhile, Ben whispered, “Crazy-beautiful.”
My heart squeezed, and when it did, it felt fucking good.
“Always were,” he went on quietly.
I forced myself to find my voice, but when the words came out, they sounded husky. “You look good too.”
Some of the dark went out of his eyes as sweet settled in and he ordered, “Come here, Frankie.”
For once, I did as I was told and walked to him.
The instant I got close, he pulled me gently into his arms, holding me loosely, and dipped his head to touch his mouth to mine.
When he lifted it, he asked, “You ready to go?”
I nodded.
He grinned, gave me a light squeeze, then let me go. He did the rounds to turn the lights off on the nightstands, then came to me and took my hand. He held it all the way down to the kitchen and only dropped it when he nabbed his cell off the counter and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
We were at the door when he asked, “You want your purse?”
I looked up at him. “It doesn’t go with my outfit and I didn’t think to grab one when I was at my place.”
“You need me to carry anything for you?”
I went silent and stared up at him, wondering if he was for real.
It was strange and unsettling to compare him to his brother, but even so, the fact remained that Vinnie not only never offered to carry anything for me, there were times he bitched when I asked.
Though, it was more. As my experience with men was limited, my girlfriends had reported the same thing.
“Babe?” he prompted.
Again in unchartered female territory, I cautiously answered, “My lip gloss.”
His eyes dropped to my dress and he asked with more than mild incredulity, “You got it on you?”
I shook my head. “I left it in the bathroom.”
“I’ll get it,” he muttered and moved that way.
“Ben, you wanna know which one to grab?” I called to his back.
He turned and looked at me. “Babe, you think I don’t have that shade committed to memory, you’d be thinkin’ wrong.”
My heart squeezed again.
Ben disappeared.
He returned, got close, and waved the tube of lip gloss at me. “This it?”
He was a miracle man.
“Yep.”
He shoved it in his inside jacket pocket and asked, “Anything else?”
“Nope.”
He grinned, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out the door.